Passive-Aggressive Piercings
by Maniac-Elle
Summary: The moment he catches sight of the glinting silver adorning his lover's face, Francis realises their argument is not as resolved as he'd thought. Vampire AU. Complete one shot.


**A/N: **Fill for the Hetalia Kink Meme asking for a fic based on a Tumblr post about a human wearing silver piercings because he's pissed at his vampire boyfriend.

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Passive-Aggressive Piercings

The moment he catches sight of the glinting silver adorning his lover's face, Francis realises their argument is not as resolved as he'd thought.

"Arthur?" he tries, in his most pleading voice.

His human stirs his tea, slowly, bracelet clinking against the cup. "Francis," he says, tone and expression utterly neutral.

A flare of panic shoots through Francis and he has to remind himself that he is a vampire, a thousand year old vampire and he should not be scared of his twenty three year old boyfriend. Even if said boyfriend is littered in silver and acting suspiciously calm.

Francis gathers his bravery and crosses the distance in a smooth glide. "You're mad at me," he says, as if it isn't already obvious to the two of them. Honestly though he cannot think of a better way to approach the subject when Arthur is in such a mood.

Arthur only raises one pierced eyebrow in response.

Francis huffs. "Is this about Angélique? You are being ridiculous Arthur; how can you possibly still be mad about that?"

Arthur sips his tea and this time it is the lip ring that clinks against the cup. He says nothing but eyes Francis the whole time. Francis doesn't know whether to leave Arthur to stew in his anger or drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Either way he wants to rip out his own hair (but of course he will not because Francis does not shell out nearly one hundred pounds a month to destroy his own precious locks).

He settles for an apology in the end, hoping it is the likest way to rid his human of silver, and if luck should have it, clothes. "Mon amour," Francis purrs and slinks closer to Arthur.

"Don't 'mon amour' me," Arthur says and some of the anger he's doing his best to cover slips into the sentence. Francis thinks this is a good sign. Angry, even furious Arthur he knows how to handle. It is the quietly seething and plotting Arthur that Francis struggles with.

"I'm sorry," Francis says in the most humble manner a centuries old, ever so slightly narcissistic and arrogant vampire can manage. "I never meant to upset you." Which is true, at least this time around. He has, in the past, been known to purposely enrage or hurt Arthur, though it is not as if Arthur hasn't done the same back.

"I'm not upset," Arthur says, too lightly, too casually. He drinks more of his tea and wanders from the kitchen.

Francis debates leaving him be but decides this argument should be nipped in the bud before Arthur can paint himself in silver tattoos.

Francis does not glide this time but stomps after his lover. "How can you be mad about Angélique?" he yells before he has reached the living room. "I was helping her – anyone else would see that."

Arthur whirls around and tea splashes on the floor and furniture. Francis hides his glee at seeing Arthur's mask crack.

"You let her drink from you!" Arthur snarls, all pretence of calm gone.

"She was injured-"

"-she twisted her ankle-"

"-she sprained it and was in pain-"

"-she could have held on five minutes-"

"-I could never be so cruel-"

"-oh shut up!" Arthur shouts. "You just wanted to give her your blood!"

"I was doing a favour for a friend! You're the one who is acting unreasonable."

Arthur strides forward and catches Francis' shirt in his fist. His rings rub against the material and Francis is thankful that he'd chosen to dress before greeting his lover.

"You let her drink _from you_," he snarls and his grip tightens. "_From your vein_."

Francis smiles softly and tells Arthur he is jealous. His words are tinged, perhaps unwisely, with a hint of smugness.

"I'm pissed," Arthur says and it shows in his narrowed eyes and taut stance but all Francis truly notices is Arthur's heat burning into his own cool body and how delicious his human looks with the studs and rings and oh god the things he could do with that bar in his tongue-

"Francis."

He blinks. And a half second later realises his fangs are extended and his body thrums with the need for Arthur, for his touch, his blood.

"You fucking twat," Arthur says and releases his hold on Francis' expensive shirt and puts distance between the two of them. "I should rescind your invitation to my house."

It's technically _their_ house, though Arthur has control over the vampires that are allowed entry – including himself – despite both their names on the lease.

Francis withdraws his fangs and calms the part of himself lusting after his human. He used to think the passion would fizzle out, that Arthur would be another blip in his love life, but after five years he craves Arthur with all of his being, sometimes so strongly that he feels flames dance on his skin and he knows Arthur will consume him from the inside out. Even at moments when he finds his lover in passive-aggressive piercings.

"I love you," he says, out of the blue he knows but at that moment he is stuck by overwhelming paralytic emotion. He says it in English too because he says 'Je t'aime' to his progeny, his friends, (maybe his reflection once or twice) but 'I love you' is reserved for Arthur and Arthur alone.

Of course Arthur sticks up his nose at the declaration and continues with his attack. "And Angélique?"

Francis sighs. "I do not nor have I ever loved Angélique. I simply gave her my blood because she hurt her leg and I was acting as a gentleman. That is all."

"From the vein."

How is this argument still ongoing? Francis was sure they'd settled it before he'd retired to his coffin at dawn.

"We were at a club, what was I to do?"

"You give it to her in a glass, like you've always done with our friends."

"The queue to the bar was too long."

"Then you wait."

"And leave her in pain?"

Arthur turns away and for a foolish moment Francis thinks he won. When he looks back Arthur is tonguing the lip ring and Francis' fangs threaten to make a reappearance.

"So..." Arthur says slowly and Francis knows he going to hate whatever he next says. "I suppose that if Kiku or Alfred needed blood then I should offer mine to them?"

Francis isn't an idiot and he knows where Arthur is going with this. But he also wants to win this foolish argument. "If one of your friends needs blood than of course you should give it to them. It would be cruel not to."

"And," Arthur steps closer, "if the bar was crowded it would be alright to let them drink from me?"

Molten rage courses through Francis at the thought of another vampire touching Arthur, putting their lips on him and draining his blood. It is all he can to stop from launching himself on his lover and smothering him in Francis' scent and mouthing marks on his skin that will deter any other vampires that glance his way.

Francis forces a shrug. "It would be cruel of me to forbid it."

Arthur moves forward again with cat like stealth. His eyes glow green and his tongue licks at his lips and the ring. Francis follows the movement and his hands itch to touch Arthur somewhere, anywhere.

"And you wouldn't mind if Kiku drank from my neck?" he asks and tilts his head to bare his throat and Francis' own bite upon it. The bite is far from fading but Francis wants desperately, painfully, to sink his teeth into the pale skin and leave it red and raw and marked as belonging to him.

"Or if I gave Alfred my wrist?" The bracelets jangle as he shifts his arm. His wrist is nearly unblemished, the mark almost gone.

Arthur hadn't let him drink from his wrist at all in the beginning, complaining that it was too visible or too itchy under the cuffs he wore at the time. It wasn't until their relationship had stumbled from casual sex into boyfriend territory that Arthur had shyly offered his wrist while they laid under the stars following a rather deep conversation. Francis had curled into Arthur's chest and stroked his wrist, presenting a kiss to the pale skin before driving his fangs in. As he drank Arthur had spooned him, stroking his hair and nuzzling his neck. The affair had been lovingly intimate and romantic. It was also the first time Francis had wanted to tell Arthur those three little words, though he'd held them in for he hadn't been sure his feelings would be returned.

Francis looks away but he doesn't think he is quite hitting the level of disinterest he is aiming for. "If..." He swallows. "If he... had to then I would be... fine with that."

"What if," and Arthur steps close enough that their clothes brush and Arthur's breath is warm on his skin, "I let them drink from my thigh?"

Francis turns to Arthur with his inhuman speed. "No," he growls, because no, that is not happening, no one but him will ever be between Arthur's legs, trailing fingers down the inside of his thighs, leaving kisses and bruises and a scent other than his own. Francis would rip them to shreds, he didn't care if it was Kiku or Alfred or even Antonio or Gilbert. Arthur was _his_.

But Francis remembers himself. He clears his throat and forces his canines away. "Why would anyone need to drink from your thigh? Why would that be an option?"

Arthur twists the studs in his ears. "I don't know. I'm just checking if you would be alright with it."

Francis knows it will not happen and thus is free to give his approval, though a part of himself still screams no. "If it would help your friend then I give you my blessing." Francis thinks he's won their argument and that Arthur will have to drop the subject of Angélique and take out the piercings, though he expects Arthur will blow up his face or sulk before giving into hate sex (hopefully) or make up sex (almost as good).

But Arthur only nibbles at the lip ring before nodding. "Ok," he says, and wanders from the room.

Francis stands in the middle of the living room. He doesn't feel like he's won the argument, despite Arthur acquiescing. And the piercings are still in. And Francis' body is thrumming on pent up energy that isn't going anywhere, or into anyone.

Francis stands there until he hears the kettle boiling and he chases after his boyfriend. Arthur fixes himself a cup of tea and Francis watches and waits for something to happen, for scalding water to dodge or an insult to lob back. Arthur does neither.

Arthur stares at him over the rim of his cup and Francis stares right on back. He's not sure if speaking or not speaking is the right course of action and so they remain locked in an odd stalemate that Francis does not know the rules to.

He'd like to think that after a thousand years he'd have mastered the art of staring down an enemy (so to speak) but he finds himself caving when it comes to Arthur.

"You're still wearing your piercings," Francis mutters when he can no longer handle the tension.

"I am," Arthur says. "But I'll take them out soon when we meet up with Alfred or Kiku."

The idea of Arthur taking off his piercings is no longer so welcome.

"Or maybe you should keep them in," Francis says and sidles close to Arthur to whisper in his ear. "It reminds me of when we first met and you were an angry little punk dragging me into dirty bathrooms all over London."

Francis sees the blush on Arthur's face and it thrills him.

"I burnt my tongue on your silver every night but I couldn't compel you to take them out and I couldn't stop myself from touching you."

Francis dances fingertips up Arthur's arm. His human is bright red and the scent of arousal blooms in the air.

Francis pauses on his shoulder blades, his fingers a hairs breadth from the chains around Arthur's neck. "I would still do the same," he whispers. "I find I don't mind a little pain when it comes to you."

Arthur tilts his head and parts his mouth. Francis leans down.

"You might be a masochist but Alfred and Kiku aren't," Arthur says and backs away.

Francis doesn't react immediately. "What?"

"I wouldn't want my piercings to hurt them."

"They're not going to get close enough to be hurt."

"Maybe," Arthur says and returns to his tea. "But who knows where the night will end. Speaking of which, we should get ready."

Francis blocks his path quicker than the human eye can follow. He isn't quite what to say as Arthur meets his gaze and he's very aware that he might be on the edge of losing this argument that has long been blown out of proportion.

"You can only feed them your blood from the vein out of necessity," Francis says.

"That's right," Arthur says. "Like if Kiku hasn't drank enough again or if Alfred gets injured in a fight with Ivan and the bar is too crowded to get through."

Francis' skin prickles. Alfred and Ivan fight almost every time they meet and Kiku has been known to be too polite to feed even when he hungers. The thought that Arthur might soon be letting them drink from his neck or wrist is suddenly not inconceivable but a real possibility.

Arthur manoeuvres around him but Francis catches his hand, no longer caring that the rings will burn. "Would you really let them drink from you?"

Arthur glances at their hands and then away. It takes him a moment before the word, "Yes," is uttered.

Francis squeezes Arthur's hand tighter and the rings dig into his skin and blister.

Arthur pulls away and folds his arms.

"Arthur..."

"You let her drink from you and even though she didn't know what it meant, you do. And yes, I know she was in pain but it would have taken you two minutes to find your way to the bar and get a glass. But you didn't." Arthur inhales and looks Francis in the eyes. "You broke your promise and I don't know whether this means your commitment to me is worthless, or you think it's fun to rile me up, or that you're interested in Angélique, but if you can break you vows so easily then I suppose I don't mean as much to you as I thought."

Francis is struck dumb by Arthur's speech and the fact that it was said in the first place. He knows his human is a romantic at heart but Arthur much prefers to show his feelings with thoughtful actions and sweet gestures rather than words. He is as much surprised that Arthur spoke his feelings out loud as he is chocked by the words themselves.

Guilt and denial and remorse battle but it is the flutter in his stomach and the hammering of a heart that doesn't beat and once more he is so overcome by love and devotion to this human, this man who teased Francis away from centuries of casual flings and turned him into a one man vampire. He has fallen so completely for this man and he thinks, no, he knows that he would spend an eternity with Arthur and Arthur alone.

Francis doesn't know how he can convince Arthur of the depth of his love, how he can explain to Arthur that everyone else blurs in contrast to him, that everyday he worries for Arthur's safety knowing how fragile humans are and the thousands of threats that lay outside their home. Francis holds Arthur securely in his heart and in return Arthur has thawed his being and brought life into his dead body. He thinks, if there is such a thing, that Arthur is his soulmate, his one and only and it would destroy him utterly for anything to befall his beloved or if Arthur were to leave him.

"I am sorry," Francis say and musters all his sincerity into those words. "I was careless and lazy and I gave no thought to the promise I made or your own feelings. I know that sometimes my words sting and my actions wound but I have never wanted to make you feel as though you were anything less than everything to me."

He cups the sides of Arthur's neck and soothes his thumbs over Arthur's jaw. "I don't believe there are any words in any language that could do justice to what I feel for you. All I can do is show you in every way possible. So I vow to never again feed anyone my blood directly. I am yours and yours alone and I will always be."

Arthur is bright red and his pulse races against Francis' fingers. "No need to be so dramatic," Arthur manages to blurt out but Francis knows he pleased. He gaze flicks away from Francis' own. "And I don't mind you feeding someone from your vein in an emergency, just, you know, don't be so frivolous."

Francis leans down and kisses Arthur. He does not mind the searing heat of the lip ring or the scalding of the tongue bar because it is Arthur and he would kiss him still if he were made from silver.

"I love you," he breathes when they break apart.

"Je t'aime," Arthur says and pulls him back.

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**A/N:** I kind of had an idea for this fill and I started writing and suddenly it was five in the morning and I'd written 2,000 words before getting stuck at the end (but I got there after sleeping). I also like how I randomly wrote this despite having a FACE vampire fic stuck in my head for weeks that I still haven't got round to. Meh, I'll get to it later (maybe - I know me).

Thank goodness this was just a one shot though because I do not need another unfinished fic to not work on.


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